Résultats de "Liian Varus" dans Toutes les catégories

The most anticipated sequel of the greatest love story ever told is here! Seven months have gone by; Dave and Caroline are in love as much as ever. However, there's a new threat in town — a barber named Alp Hamale (best villain name in the world) and he wants Caroline bad because honestly, who wouldn't? She's hot, bro. Anyway, he's dead set on her being his but first he has to get Dave out of the picture. Male toxicity is like that. Don't count Dave out, though. He's been pumping iron and will do anything to make sure he's the only one who gets to see what Caroline looks like below her navel.

A writer who suffers from depression looks to the majesty of nature to pull him from the dark. The battle of the Muses plays out in his journal entries and poetry, and through his story, you get a firsthand look at the effect they have on himself, the relationship with his family, and how he observes the world around him.

A maniacal crow tells a sad odyssey about his strange entanglement with depression.

This is the worst book of poetry ever written.

Caroline loves Dave. Dave loves Caroline. They're Caucasian, and there's a problem... No, not them being Caucasian, something else. Dave also loves business. Caroline wants nothing more than for Dave to see what she looks like below her navel, but Dave never gives her enough allotted time for that to happen. He's always so busy with business. Dave has to be careful, because Caroline has this stupid friend, Brenda, that I really hate and she wants Caroline to herself. She wants Dave super dead and out of the picture for good. Wait. There's more.

Have you ever been so depressed that all you wanted to do was colour? Me neither, but now you can. Let's face it - we're all emotionally done with everything. Pardon me while I speak for everyone. I believe we should be able to colour our feelings instead of just eating them. I've taken a hard right away from tacos and have driven myself into the warm, jiggly prism of a rainbow's bosom? Yes. I have.

For twenty four years, poetry has been my lifeline. Whenever depression tried to pull me under, I would write until it tired out. Those struggles would last from days to even years. How I am here, writing this now is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.